THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


They  are  all  put  away  in  camphor  now, 
The  soft  warm  wraps  and  the  furs  ; 
She  wore  them  in  hours  of  happiest  play, 
These  garments  so  dear  that  were  hers. 


See  page  n 


IN  CAMPHOR 


WITH   THE          u 

COMPLIMENTS  OF  THE  AUTHOR 


PUBLISHED  BY  G.  P.  PUT 
NAM'S  SONS,  MDCCCXCV 
NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1895 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Ube  fmtcfeerbocfeer  press,  -flew 


They  were  woven  of  sorrow, 

Thread  by  thread, 
From  a  heart  ivounded  and  bleeding 

For  its  dead. 

The  strong  arm  leaned  on, 

Tender  and  brave  ; 
The  precious  child-daughter  ; 

Both  in  the  grave. 


525007 

LIBRARY 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

IN  CAMPHOR n 

THE  KEY  TO  THE  CAMPHOR  CHEST 14 

A  LITTLE  HAND 18 

HEARTSEASE    21 

KEEP  THEM  HAPPY 25 

MY  BELOVED 29 

PRAYER 31 

THEN  AND  Now 32 

THE  Two  BIRTHDAYS 33 

MEMORIES 36 

HOME  LIGHTS 39 

THE  BOY'S  GREETING. 41 

BROWN  AND  HAZEL 42 

ADORNED 44 

A  DREAM 45 

EASTER  ."  49 

EASTER  " 51 

SPRING 52 

WELCOME 55 

7 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

NATURE 57 

NEWS 5g 

AWHILE 62 

TAI.ITHA  CUMI 64 

Now   66 

ABSENCE 68 

THOUGHTS 70 

TIRED 72 

WHILE  You  MAY 73 

QUAINT 75 

GROWING  OLD 77 

FANCY 79 

A  GREENWOOD  TALE 81 

OUR  BOYS 84 

TWILIGHT 86 

FORWARD 85 

MY  SONG 89 

BEAUTY 90 

TAUGHT  BY  THE  FLOWERS 91 

SHADOWS 93 

THE  MIRROR 94 

CAN  IT  BE 98 

GOOD-NIGHT  AND  GOOD-BYE 99 


IN   CAMPHOR 


IN  CAMPHOR. 

""THEY  are  all  put  away  in  camphor  now, 

The  soft  warm  wraps  and  the  furs  ; 
She  wore  them  in  hours  of  happiest  play, 
These  garments,  so  dear,  that  were  hers. 

I  've  folded  them  down  with  a  mother's  tears, 
The  little  frocks  spotless  and  white  ; 

And  locked  them  up  in  her  own  little  trunk, 
With  her  dolls — shut  out  from  my  sight. 

With  sighs  such  only  as  mothers  can  breathe, 
Which  none  but  the  Wound-binder  heard," 

I  've  closed  the  door  to  her  dear  little  room, 
Empty  cage  that  has  lost  its  bird. 


12  IN  CAMPHOR. 


I  sit  and  wonder  how  mothers  can  live 

Through  death's  awful  shock — the  first  blow, 

And  how  in  calm  faith  they  can  give  God  back 
The  child  He  in  love  did  bestow. 


And  then  I  wonder  what  power  can  keep 
The  moth-eating  grief  from  my  heart ; 

Not  the  sorrowful  past  to  put  to  sleep, 
But  healing  and  health  to  impart. 


If  the  gum  that  comes  from  a  wounded  tree 
Can  drive  away  moth  from  the  chest, 

Will  not  the  balm  that  from  Calvary  flowed 
Drive  sorrow  and  care  from  my  breast  ? 


IN  CAMPHOR. 


And  so  I  've  been  packing  these  clothes  away 
With  the  gum  of  the  fragrant  tree, 

And  will  let  Him  fill  my  poor  careworn  heart, 
With  His  peace, — like  perfume  to  me. 


And  thus  till  I  reach  the  home-garden  fair 
Where  the  sweet  camphor  blossom  grows, 

The  balm  that  comes  from  that  same  Camphor  Tree 
Shall  be  solace  for  all  my  woes. 


THE  KEY  TO  THE  CAMPHOR  CHEST. 


FAINT  ring  at  the  door-bell. 

"A  child,"  my  sad  heart  said. 
"  The  hand  is  small  and 
trembling, 

Or  weak  for  want  of  bread." 


And  when  the  bell  was  answered, 
A  child  scarce  ten  years  old  — 

Whose  clothes  were  thin  and 

threadbare  — 
Stood  shivering  in  the  cold. 


THE  KEY  TO  THE  CAMPHOR  CHEST.     15 

Two  little  shoes  with  toes  out, 

Two  little  hands  both  red, 
Oh,  dear  sad  eyes,  how  wistful, 

Longing,  yet  filled  with  dread. 


"  If  you  've  some  clothes  for  children, "- 
She  seemed  quite  dumb  from  fear — 

"  You  see  I  have  n't  any  " — 
And  waiting,  dropped  a  tear. 


This  lowly  child  I  looked  at  ; 

"  The  camphor  chest  " — I  said, 
"  Its  soft  warm  furs  and  clothing 

Not  needed  by  my  dead." 


1 6     THE  KEY  TO  THE  CAMPHOR  CHEST. 

I  took  her  hand — 't  was  trembling, 

And  led  her  to  the  chest  ; 
Must  I  unlock  my  heart's  grief 

To  help  this  child — God's  guest  ? 


I  took  a  soft  warm  bonnet, 
With  fresh  bow  knots  of  lace, 

And  tying  on  I  whispered, 

"  Let  mother  keep  that  face  !  " 


Her  cold  thin  hands  transparent 
These  gloves  seemed  just  to  fit ; 

Her  sweet  eyes  lost  their  sadness, 
And  smiles  beeran  to  flit. 


THE  KEY  TO  THE  CAMPHOR  CHEST.     17 

Shoes  hardly  worn  and  stockings, 
Soft  flannels,  frocks  and  furs, — 

"  You,  little  girl,  are  welcome  ; 
All  of  them  once  were  hers." 

The  chest  will  soon  be  empty, 

For  love  has  found  the  key ; 
I  hear  Him  gently  whisper,. 

"Ye  did  it  unto  Me." 


A  LITTLE  HAND. 


A  RE  you  kind  and  quick  at  discerning  things? 

Can  you  see  on  the  window  pane 
The  print  of  a  dear  little  dimpled  hand, 
Between  the  dried  drops  of  rain  ? 


The  storm  has  splashed  on  the  outer  side, 

The  glass  has  been  polished  within  ; 
Yet  thus  always  the  print  of  that  dear  little  hand, 

Be  there  sunlight  or  shadow  dim. 

is 


20  A  LITTLE  HAND. 

Its  tapers  point  up  to  the  Hand  it  caught, 
Somewhere — up  there  in  the  day — 

And  I  know  that  His  clasp  is  tighter  far 
Than  mine  could  be,  here  on  the  way. 


So  this  dear  little  hand  that  points  the  way, 
Holds  the  helm  in  my  boat  of  time, 

And  when  sailing  is  done  and  life's  sea  crossed, 
That  same  little  hand  will  clasp  mine. 


HEARTSEASE. 


IMPETUOUS  words  are  on  my  lips; 

My  heart  is  always  sad — 
Will  the  scars  of  sorrow  ever  heal, 
And  in  healing  make  me  glad  ? 


My  heart's  world  now  is  only  dust ; 

My  roses  are  but  ashes  ; 
Will  the  coming  years  be  years  of  woe, 

And  tears  still  on  my  lashes? 


22  HEARTSEASE. 


The  voice  in  the  wind — its  charm  has  gone  ; 

The  tone  of  the  rustling  leaf  ; 
The  shaded  walks  where  the  paths  entwined, 

Disenchanted  of  all — but  grief. 


If  a  veil  has  fallen  o'er  mine  eyes 
Shutting  out  the  light  of  the  sun, 

And  I  can  follow  Him  in  the  dark, 
Has  a  new  walk  not  begun  ? 


Is  not  the  infinite  wisdom  of  God 
Taking  the  dross  from  the  gold, 

Showing  His  wondrous  love  for  me 
While  leading  me  on  to  His  fold  ? 


HEAR  TSEA  SE.  2  3 


If  hope  has  vanished  like  a  mist, 
And  the  skies  are  overcast, 

Can  I  not  live  with  patience  then, 
Till  I  reach  my  home  at  last  ? 


If  roses  were  always  roses  here, 

And  hearts  were  never  sad, 
In  the  whirl  and  rush  of  thoughtless  joy 

Would  not  the  world  go  mad  ? 


Then  let  us  work  and  wait  and  trust, 
With  childlike  love  and  fear  ; 

Though  dust  and  ashes  at  His  feet, 
Our  hearts  He  yet  will  cheer. 


HEARTSEASE. 


For  ashes  He  '11  give  beauty  then, 
For  weakness  He  '11  give  strength, 

Our  very  tears  He  '11  change  to  pearls, 
And  Heartsease  come  at  length. 


KEEP  THEM  HAPPY. 


H,  where  shall  I  go  with  my  sorrow, 
In  secret  to  weep  out  my  woe  ? 

Youth  must  not  e'en  guess  at  my  sighing, 
Or  my  heart's  joyless  depths  ever  know. 


Not  heartless  because  they  are  happy, 
They  're  just  unacquainted  with  grief, 

Who  then  would  hush  their  light  laughter, 
When  unshadowed  days  are  so  brief? 

25 


26  KEEP  THEM  HAPPY. 


There  's  a  charm  in  sweet  womanhood's  morning, 

In  the  joyous  key  of  her  song, 
That  will  echo  through  life  till  the  evening, 

Though  her  days  be  sad  and  long. 


So  regal  is  true-hearted  manhood, 

As  he  girds  on  his  sword  for  the  fight, 

So  dauntless  in  lofty  courage, 

There  's  naught  can  withstand  his  might. 


She  's  like  a  rosebud  of  summer, 

And  he  like  a  twig  of  the  oak, 
For  me  the  stem  had  borne  blossom  and  fruit, 

Ere  it  drooped  with  its  burden  and  broke. 


KEEP  THEM  HAPPY. 


27 


Their  tears  will  come  sooner  or  later, 
Just  when  none  ever  can  know, 

And  we,  too,  shall  sigh  our  last  sorrow, 
And  in  heaven  forget  our  past  woe. 


Then  pave  not  their  path  with  pebbles, 
But  line  their  life-walk  with  flowers, 

Blossoms,  and  buds,  and  rose-leaves, 
Freshened  by  sweet-scented  showers, 


28 


KEEP   THEM  HAPPY. 


Blight  not  a  hope  they  are  building, 
Hush  not  a  note  that  they  sing, 

We  once  had  our  own  "  air  castles," 
And  all  the  bright  promise  of  Sprin< 


MY  BELOVED. 


T  SAW  and  kissed  his  kind  sweet  face, 

And  touched  his  silvered  hair, 
Our  lovely  child  stood  at  his  side, 
Gentle,  tender,  fair. 


I  saw  his  dear  lips  move  in  smiles, 

Love  light  his  brilliant  eye, 
The  same  rich  voice  I  heard  again, 

Just  as  in  days  gone  by. 
29 


30  MY  BELOVED. 


I  saw  her  white  arms  clasp  him  round 

In  tender  love  and  care, 
Her  shining  hair  fell  like  a  veil, 

And  hid  her  face  so  fair. 


And  then  a  change,  and  all  was  strange, 

And  I  deep  pain  could  feel, 
For  I  awoke,  't  was  only  sleep, 

The  pain  and  change  were  real. 


PRAYER. 


'"THE  prayer  that  went  unanswered 

Did  not  prove  the  wish  unheard, 
It  only  told  some  better  plan, 
Or  else  of  hope  deferred. 


Then  waiting  need  never  discourage, 
Nor  withholding  take  away  faith, 

So  still  thy  heart's  complaining, 
And  wait,  the  Master  saith. 


THEN  AND  NOW. 


^THEN  I  hoped  "whatever  is  is  right," 

And  I  had  for  my  reason  why 
Each  wish  granted,  happiness  possessed, 
And  I  thought,  Who  's  happier  than  I  ? 


But  now  I  know  "  whatever  is  is  right," 
And  I  have  for  my  reason  why, 

Faith  and  hope,  more  than  I  can  express, 
Oh !  who  can  be  happier  than  I  ? 


THE  TWO   BIRTHDAYS. 


IN  counting  her  heavenly  birthdays, 
One,  two  years  old  to-day ; 

Though  were  she  here  beside  me, 
We  'd  count  thirteen  this  May. 


In  heaven  she's  been  but  a  morning, 
On  earth  she  did  not  reach  noon  ; 

To  my  white  rose,  my  tender  bud, 
Both  birthdays  came  so  soon. 

33 


34  THE   TWO  BIRTHDAYS. 

Before  we  had  thought  of  danger, 
Dark  shades  shot  'cross  the  light  ; 

A  hush  fell  on  her  laughter, 
And  turned  our  day  to  night. 


'T  was  the  very  first  hour  of  Good  Friday, 
Her  soul  passed  into  the  light, 

And  we  laid  her  in  silent  Greenmount 
Between  Easter-noon  and  night. 


And  now  on  these  two  birthdays, 

Of  heaven  and  of  earth, 
We  wreathe  together  May  flowers, 

And  lilies  of  Easter  birth. 


THE  TWO  BIRTHDAYS. 


35 


And  wend  our  way  with  arms  full — 
Her  dear  ones  gathering  round — 

With  the  freshest,  sweetest  flowers 
To  lay  on  that  little  mound. 


In  His  garden  gathering  lilies, 
Reaping  what  she  has  sown, 

The  broken  buds  of  earth  exchanged 
For  heaven's  fair  flowers  full  blown. 


MEMORIES. 


REATHE  me  a  garland  of  roses  rare, 
(I  Wreathe  for  the  grave  of  my  darling  there, 
Lace  them  together  the  bud  and  the  leaf, 
Fair  as  the  day,  yet  emblems  of  grief. 


Listening,  I  hear  her  voice  in  the  air ; 

Waiting  oft  fancy  her  step  on  the  stair ; 
Memory  brings  her  form  to  my  side, 

As  though  it  was  only  this  morn  she  died. 
36 


"  I  hear  her  step  on  the  stair.' 


38  MEMORIES. 


Oft  I  can  feel  her  kiss  on  my  cheek, 

Hear  her  light  feet  as  they  play  hide  and  seek, 
Echoing  back  her  heart  in  its  joy; 

And  see  her  hands  as  they  give  a  toy. 


None  but  a  mother  can  see  or  hear, 
For  every  movement  and  look  is  dear; 

To  you  it  sounds  like  birds  in  the  air, 
While  I  hear  "  Mamma  "  everywhere. 


HOME  LIGHTS. 


'T'HAT  light  in  your  home  is  a  welcome, 

And  it  shines  in  the  dark  bright  and  clear, 
To  tell  you  that  hearts  are  waiting 
For  one  who  is  always  dear. 


You  feel  so  sure  of  the  signal, 
You  scarce  think  of  it  any  more, 

But  the  night  it  burns  out  you  '11  miss  it, 
As  the  sailor  his  light  on  the  shore. 

39 


40  HOME  LIGHTS. 

The  hand  may  be  white  and  dimpled, 

Or  old  and  brown  and  thin, 
That  lights  your  lamp  by  the  window, 

But  there  's  the  same  welcome  within. 

So  be  careful  just  how  you  enter, 

With  bright  cheery  greeting  and  smile, 

'T  is  home-light — if  only  a  candle, 
And  home  love  you  will  have  but  a  while. 


THE  BOY'S  GREETING. 

IVA  OTHER,  I  send  my  love  to  thee 

Over  the  wires  of  steel ; 
I  feel  the  pressure  of  thy  hand, 
Its  warmth  to  me  is  real. 

Though  high  and  many  the  hills  between, 

The  old  home  still  is  dear, 
This  little  home  will  soon  be  mine 

To  hold  and  have  you  near. 

Be  brave,  be  calm,  for  thy  boy's  sake, 

He  's  true  as  steel  to  thee, 
And  never  forgets  the  lessons  learned, 

Nor  the  prayer  he  said  at  thy  knee. 
41 


BROWN  AND   HAZEL. 


ROWN — brown  hair  and  hazel  eyes 

Bonny,  beaming,  bright  ; 
Skipping  off  away  she  hies, 
Now  quite  out  of  sight. 


Darling,  dancing,  daring  eyes, 
Flashing  in  the  light  ; 

Weary,  wistful,  winsome  eyes, 
Go  to  sleep — 't  is  night. 


42 


BROWN  AND  HAZEL.  43 

They  have  lights  that  come  and  go, 

Twinkling,  starry  eyes, 
Filled  with  tears  they  touch  me  so, 

Filling  me  with  sighs. 


Bright  or  wistful,  sad  or  gay, 
Such  the  forms  they  wear, 

Changing  even  in  their  play, 
Hazel  eyes — brown  hair. 


ADORNED. 

T    OOSEN  the  pearls  from  her  fair  young  throat, 

The  buds  from  her  gold-brown  hair ; 
Neither  necklace  nor  bud  in  beauty  can  vie 
With  His  gift,  my  jewel  rare. 

Nothing  becomes  thee,  child,  to  wear, 
While  thy  voice  hath  youth  in  its  note, 

Like  the  braids  formed  of  thine  own  sunny  hair, 
With  the  ringlets  encircling  thy  throat. 

With  the  blossom  tinted  by  God's  own  hand, 
Does  the  blush  on  thy  cheek  agree  ; 

As  thou  standest  in  sweet  simplicity  clad, 
Thou  'rt  adorned,  my  child,  to  me. 

44 


A    DREAM. 


T  THOUGHT  I  heard  the  deep-voiced  sea 

Chide  me  in  my  dream  ; 
And  for  something  I  had  left  undone 
The  moon  held  back  her  beam. 


But  on  my  ear  fell  mystic  tones, 

As  from  some  holy  choir ; 
Their  voices  sounding  far  and  near, 

Did  my  very  soul  inspire. 

45 


A   DREAM. 


Like  the  life-laden  seed  of  an  autumn  flower, 

Its  wings  spread  on  the  wind, 
I  was  borne  aloft  in  my  car  of  thought, 

Till  I  had  left  the  world  behind. 


In  the  gentle  breeze  that  sped  me  on, 
The  broken  clouds  would  mend ; 

And  as  I  sailed  from  land  to  land, 
Old  scenes  with  new  did  blend. 


The  mountain  peaks  were  far  below, 

And  rivers,  like  a  thread, 
Linked  sea  and  land  and  distant  shore — 

A  mystic  scene  far-spread. 


A  DREAM. 


47 


The  pale  moon,  very  full  and  white, 

Was  soaring  now  in  air  ; 
And  the  misty  rain  on  the  mountain  slope, 

Froze  in  feathery  plumage  fair. 


By  day  a  bow  in  the  cloud  was  set, 
At  night  no  sound  was  heard, 

Save  echoing  faint  in  the  clear  still  air 
Came  back  the  note  of  a  bird. 


And  when  I  wandered  back  to  earth, 
And  reached  my  home  again, 

The  peace  I  found  in  my  fancy's  flight, 
Helped  me  forget  grief's  pain. 


A  DREAM. 

The  same  tone  from  the  holy  choir 

Fell  on  my  listening  ear; 
And  though  in  my  dream  I  was  high  and  far, 

I  had  not  thought  of  fear. 

And  as  I  pass  through  life's  real  maze, 

In  sunlight  or  in  shade, 
May  peace  and  hope  shine  always  bright, 

And  I  be  not  afraid. 


EASTER. 

ITH  your  memories  full  of  mourning, 
Will  you  always  bring  me  pain, 

Can  you  ever,  joyous  Easter, 
Be  the  same  to  me  again  ? 

Will  I  always  for  their  voices 

Be  listening  in  my  song, 
And  feel  their  touch  while  waiting 

Through  the  days  and  nights  so  long? 

If  I  could  hear  them  singing 

While  I  am  weeping  here, 
I  might  then  stop  my  sighing, 

And  brush  away  the  tear. 
49 


50  EASTER. 

We  '11  meet  again — who  whispers, 
That  I  may  catch  the  tone, 

And  feel  hope's  first  assurance 
While  waiting  here  alone  ? 

This  thought  is  so  consoling, 
The  promise  is  so  sweet, 

With  faith  I  '11  hedge  it  round  about,- 
I  '11  know  them  when  we  meet. 

Without  hope,  then,  shall  I  sorrow  ? 

Nay,  we  shall  know  again  ; 
With  the  Lord  in  blest  reunion, 

In  his  presence,  without  pain. 


EASTER. 

YX7HEN  cometh  Easter  morning, 

Give  of  thy  best  gifts, 
Gladdening  in  some  home  a  heart 
Where  the  burden  never  lifts. 

Speak  only  words  of  kindness ; 

Lend  only  happy  smiles  ; 
Give  consolation  where  there  's  woe, 

The  look  that  care  beguiles. 

Give  all  then  thou  art  able 
Of  word  or  look  or  gold  ; 
The  Master's  smile',  His  word,  "well  done," 

Will  pay  thee  many  fold. 

51 


SHCKCL 

\\   -~-  -  -    :    -  '  '-  '--I''-.----  -  -  ------ 


"  -  •-.  -•  - .  : 

Urfi  my  hart  gets  stronger  ? 

:-::-•  ?-_i.  : 


--------       .._---_-     - 


By  focgeltiBg  self  I  via  go  OIL. 
flilj^  where'er  I  cm, 

-  -  i-  -j  : ..-.  =tr:    t  ::      :    trf     ; 


SPJttt'G. 


Aad  tins  in  peace  I  H  vefeooae 
AB  scasoK  fast  awl  fast, 


j  *  "  "  ~  : 


"  :    .-: 


WELCOME. 


/'~>  OME  when  the  day  is  orer, 

Or  when  *t  is  jnst  begun  ; 
Come  at  the  break  of  morning, 
Or  at  the  set  of  sun. 


Come  "when  we  are  weary. 

Or  •when  with  strength  imbued 
Come  when  sick  and  saddened, 

Or  by  health  renewed. 


56  WELCOME. 


Welcome  in  joy  or  sorrow, 

In  the  shadow  or  the  light ; 
Whether  we  're  twining  cypress, 

Or  the  holly-wreath  to-night. 

In  the  welcome  that  we  give  thee, 
There  is  set  no  day  or  hour ; 

And  thy  coming  would  have  no  ending, 
Were  it  wholly  in  our  power. 

And  when  life  lasts  no  longer 

Let  Mizpah  be  our  prayer, 
For  sisters'  love  which  changeth  not 

Is  blessed,  sweet,  and  rare. 


NATURE. 

"T^HE  sunbeam  warmed  the  daisies, 
And  hid  in  the  blades  of  grass ; 
While  the  violets  blew  in  the  meadows  green, 
Where  the  gentle  zephyrs  pass. 

The  stream  played  o'er  the  pebbles, 

The  polished  rocks  between  ; 
And  the  rusty  cup,  by  the  clear  cold  spring, 

Hung  low  in  its  mossy  green. 

57 


NA  TURE. 


The  sweet  briar  blushed  on  the  mountain, 
To  its  delicate,  shell-pink  tint  ; 

And  the  diamonds  paled  and  sparkled, 
As  the  sun  shone  on  the  flint. 


In  their  sweet  small  way,  the  wild  flowers, 

And  the  songsters  in  the  air, 
Singing  out  in  full  from  their  tiny  throats — 

All  laughed  at  blank  despair. 


NEWS. 


the  notes  so  white  and  dainty, 
That  the  wind  to-day  did  blow, 
In  the  broad  sweep  over  the  housetop, 
Coming  in  flakes  of  snow. 

59 


60  NEWS. 

Bringing  gentle  reminders 
Of  the  year  so  ready  to  go, 

Tender  memories  of  changing  time, 
In  its  busy  ebb  and  flow. 


Telling  of  August  harvest, 

Of  young  April's  sudden  showers, 
Of  June,  the  month  of  roses, 

And  May's  bouquet  of  flowers. 


Of  December's  holly  berries, 
And  October's  yellow  leaf, 

Of  days  when  skies  were  cloudless, 
And  the  wheat  was  in  the  sheaf. 


NEWS.  6 1 

Bring  me  more  news  to-morrow, 

You  dancing,  fairy  flakes  ; 
I  Ve  friends  I  am  anxious  to  hear  from, 

From  the  Gulf  'way  up  to  the  lakes. 


AWHILE. 

DLIND  with  tears, 
Sick  with  fears, 
We  sit  all  alone  with  our  sorrow. 

This  fair  face, 

This  lovely  grace, 
To  be  hidden  from  earth  to-morrow. 

Fallen  asleep 

Ere  learning  to  weep, 

Or  in  grief's  pain  to  share  ; 

In  beauty  immortal, 
Within  heaven's  portal, 

Just  gone  before  us  there. 

Leaving  her  play, 
In  His  arms  she  lay, 

He  hushed  her  gently  to  sleep ; 
Sweetly  at  rest, 
At  home  with  the  blest, 

'T  is  only  awhile  that  we  weep. 
62 


TALITHA  CUMI. 

IN  Jairus'  joy  there  was  a  pang, 

There  was  hope  e'en  in  my  despair, 
Though  mine  was  taken  and  his  child  left, — 
Both  young,  both  fair. 

My  hour  is  past,  my  anguish  o'er, 

While  his  was  but  deferred, 
And  all  the  time  my  heart  was  crushed, 
"  Doubt  not,"  I  heard. 

"  Come,  child," — He  gently  spoke  to  one,    • 

And  called  to  earth  again. 
To  mine,  too,  "  Come," — but  that  meant  heaven, 

Past  grief,  past  pain. 
64 


TALITHA  CUMI.  65 

Once  more  "  Talitha  "  He  will  call, 

Her  sleeping  form  will  raise, 
In  glorious  guise,  but  still  unchanged, 
To  Him  all  praise. 


NOW. 

DRAISE  me  while  I  can  hear  you, 

Bring  kiss  and  smile  while  I  live ; 
Your  treasures  of  care  and  affection, 
Now  only  you  truly  can  give. 

Clasp  my  hand  while  it  thrills  me, 
Its  strength  or  its  tremor  feel, 

With  the  hand  I  give,  my  heart  is, 
It  chills  in  the  grasp  of  steel. 

Bring  flowers  while  I  can  see  them  ; 

Let  their  fragrance  speak  of  your  love  ; 
Why  wait  till,  still  and  silent, 

My  spirit  nothing  can  move  ? 

66 


NOW.  67 

Neglected,  our  hearts  faint  and  famish, 

For  love  is  their  wine  and  bread  ; 
Starve  not  nor  chill  with  your  coldness, 

Too  late  for  your  kindness, — when  dead. 


ABSENCE. 


LJAS  ever  the  scent  of  a  simple  flower, 

Though  very  faint  its  perfume, 
Made  you  feel  sick  and  all  alone, 
Just  you— and  the  world  in  gloom  ? 


Have  you  ever  felt  in  the  summer's  breath, 

Though  only  a  zephyr  passed, 
Faint  and  trembling  and  cold  with  fear, 

As  though  the  breath  were  a  blast. 

68 


ABSENCE.  69 


Have  you  ever  gazed  on  a  passing  shower, 
And  felt  you  could  drop  a  tear, 

As  the  music  sweet  of  its  plashing  drops 
Brought  back  to  you  memories  dear? 


Have  you  ever  felt  lonely,  with  gloom  oppressed, 

Amid  the  happy  and  strong  ? 
Of  all  your  life  the  loneliest  there 

When  thrown  with  the  joyous  throng? 


'T  is  this  that  hearts  feel  in  absence  drear 
Of  loved  ones  in  heaven  or  earth ; 

'T  is  sigh  after  sigh — and  heart  crying  out, 
The  same  all  along  from  our  birth. 


THOUGHTS. 


TF  it  be  true  that  thoughts  have  wings, 

Then  think  them  as  we  will, 

To  ourselves — or  spoken  aloud, 

Some  other  heart  thev  '11  fill. 


Either  for  good  or  harm  they  've  gone 

Straight  to  another's  breast, 
They  've  left  our  lips  and  have  flown  away, 

Like  a  bird  flying  home  to  its  nest. 
70 


THOUGHTS.  71 


Sooner  or  later  our  lives  they  review, 

Those  we  smile  on  and  flatter, 
And  when  we  've  forgotten,  remember  anew 

And  uncover  the  seed  we  scatter. 

And  so  we  Ve  no  secrets  after  all, 
It  would  not  be  well  if  we  could, 

As  all  are  the  children  of  one  family  here, 
'T  was  not  intended  we  should. 


TIRED. 

""THERE  comes  a  wish  in  every  life, 

Be  it  gay  or  grave ; 
There  comes  a  longing  after  rest, 
Be  we  weak  or  brave. 

Only  tired — even  of  self, 

Weary  of  friend  and  foe, 
And  nothing  we  do  brings  us  the  rest 

That  it  did  some  time  ago. 

And  it  is  right  that  this  is  so, 
The  planning  is  all  His  own  ; 

It  helps  us  to  give  up  this  life 

For  the  life-seat  round  His  throne. 


WHILE  YOU  MAY. 

HE  old-fashioned  lilacs, 

So  they  say, 
Filled  the  air  with  perfume 

Every  day. 

When  the  lilacs  come  again 
Draw  the  curtain,  lift  the  pane, 
Breathe  in  their  fragrance  while  they  stay. 

Young  rose  leaves  are  tender, 

So  they  say — 
Leaves  oft  expanding  ^ 

In  a  day. 

Then  await  the  coming  shower, 
With  budding  in  its  power, 
Have  the  beauteous  roses  while  you  may. 


74 


WHILE  YOU  MAY. 


In  the  heat  of  summer  sun, 

So  they  say, 
Some  stem  all  the  others  will  outrun 

In  a  day. 

And  the  stem  that  runs  the  first 
Will  bear  a  bud  to  burst, 
And  add  another  rose  to  our  bouquet. 


The  echo  's  on  the  hill, 

So  they  say, 
Yet  heard  down  by  the  mill 

Every  day. 

As  the  echo  comes  't  will  go, 
Just  how  we  do  not  know, 
And  so  it  is  with  all  we  do  or  say. 


QUAINT. 


O  very  few  faults  and  so  very  quaint 

Is  my  little  old-fashioned  girl ; 
So  neat  and  sweet  whenever  we  meet, 
Though  she  wears  neither 
bang  nor  curl. 


Her  dolls  all  have  their  own 

right  place, 
Their  dresses  are  spotless 

as  snow, 
And  just  which  sash  belongs 

to  each, 
This  old-fashioned  girl 

will  know. 

75 


76  QUAINT. 

She  's  neither  large,  nor  yet  is  she  small, 
This  quaint  little  six  years  old  ; 

Toys  all  put  away  after  play  each  day, 
Although  she  has  never  been  told. 


GROWING  OLD. 


|\] OT  so  lightly  trips  my  footstep 

As  it  did  in  days  of  yore, 
And  there  may  be  threads  of  silver 
'Mid  the  tresses  brown  before. 


Yet  how  much  they  are  mistaken 
Who  mistake  this  change  for  me, 

For  't  is  but  the  house  I  live  in  ; 
Houses  crumble  as  you  see. 

77 


78  GROWING  OLD. 

It  may  be  that  lines  are  breaking 
On  the  brow  so  smooth  before ; 

Houses  sure  will  crack  and  tumble, 
When  of  care  there  is  full  store. 


If  the  heart  be  young  and  hopeful, 
What  if  then  the  house  be  old  ? 

Youthful  heart,  whose  fire  is  glowing, 
Ne'er  will  let  the  house  grow  cold. 


FANCY. 


T    OOSEN  fancy,  let  her  roam 

Till  somewhere  she  find  a  home  ; 
Help  her  break  her  leaden  string 
And  soar  high  upon  the  wing. 


Let  her  dance  upon  the  spray, 
Learn  to  sing  in  accents  gay ; 
Learn  to  warble,  learn  to  trill, 
Till  our  very  soul  she  thrill. 
79 


8o  FANCY. 

Of  despair  is  fancy  born, 
Comes  from  tears  as  rose  from  thorn ; 
Loose  her,  lift  her  on  the  wing, 
Help  her,  if  you  can,  to  sing. 


Lift  poor  fancy  from  the  dust, 
Teach  her  if  you  can  to  trust ; 
In  her  rhythm  let  her  go, 
And  in  song  forget  her  woe. 


A  GREENWOOD  TALE. 


TNDER  the  hawthorn  where  the  sun  is  pale, 
The  fairies  told  a  marvellous  tale 


Of  the  eglantine — of  the  early  rose, 
And  where  the  four-leaved  clover  grows  ; 

Of  leafy  trees,  where  hidden  between 
Could  always  vernal  bloom  be  seen  ; 

81 


82  A  GREENWOOD  TALE. 


Of  weeping  willows  nodding  their  plumes, 
When  in  the  village  are  brides  and  grooms. 

They  told  of  the  robin's  rendezvous, 
Each  to  the  other  always  true  ; 


Of  the  humming-bird  in  his  plumage  gay, 
Wishing  his  winters  were  always  May, 


And  the  butterfly  in  his  purple  and  gold, 
When  his  gauzy  wings  in  the  light  unfold  ; 


1  —  -:  i1 

I 

And  the  busy  spiders,  black  and  gray, 

Who  weave  their  webs  all  in  a  day  ; 


A  GREENWOOD  TALE. 


Of  tiny  pebbles  washed  by  the  stream, 

Till  round  and  smooth  and  white  they  gleam. 

What  wonderful  things  a  fairy  sees, 
Out  in  the  greenwood  under  the  trees. 


: 


OUR   BOYS. 

N  size  they  are  such  grown-up  men, 

In  voice,  in  look,  in  ways, 
Yet  we  'd  turn  the  long  years  back 

again 
To  their  noisy  boyish  plays. 

His  sweet  "  Ah  Goo  "  can  you  ever  forget, 
Or  when  he  first  found  he  'd  hands; 

And  then  how  you  flew,  all  in  earnest  too, 
To  obey  his  slightest  commands. 

Can't  you  see  the  rows  of  his  little  toes, 

With  their  pink  and  pearly  nails ; 
And  looking  down  to  leather  from  kid, 

Almost  think  that  your  eyesight  fails. 

84 


OUR  BOYS.  85 


What  would  you  give  for  a  footprint  now, 
And  a  stocking  splashed  to  the  knee ; 

Instead  of  the  boots  with  their  pointed  toes 
And  the  flat  seams  you  're  forced  to  see  ? 

Or  the  deep  round  linen  that  left  us  room, 

To  kiss  him  under  his  chin ; 
While  tying  his  bow  with  ends  in  a  row, 

And  tucking  the  loops  within. 

But  come  what  will  of  inches  still, 
They  can't  take  from  us  the  past ; 

And  we  '11  walk  by  his  side,  our  boy,  our  pride, 
For  they  all  must  be  men  at  last. 


TWILIGHT. 


"THE  day  is  passing  over  me, 

And  twilight,  like  a  gauze, 
Shuts  out  yon  field  and  lane  and  tree, 
And  life  seems  at  a  pause. 


Shadows  fall  about  my  feet, 

Yet  neither  day  nor  night ; 
The  birds  have  ceased  their  warbling  sweet, 

Yet  neither  dark  nor  light. 

86 


TWILIGHT.  87 


The  only  interval  of  rest, 
From  care  and  duty  free  ; 

Of  all  the  hours  I  love  it  best, 
My  heart  returns  to  thee. 


Twilight,  the  hour  of  quiet  peace, 

The  only  hour  for  me  ; 
When  other  claims  their  clamors  cease, 

And  I  'm  alone  with  thee. 


FORWARD. 

Look  forward  instead  of  backward, 
To  the  future  instead  of  the  past ; 

'T  is  all  that  will  send  you  onward 
To  find  rest  and  peace  at  last. 

To  go  backward  you  '11  only  stumble 

Over  the  past  of  regret, 
And  the  "  ifs  "  and  "  buts  "  cannot  help  you, 

Though  past  sadness  you  cannot  forget. 

The  present  looks  on  to  the  future, 
And  to  each  and  all  that  we  do, 

From  now  until  life  's  ended 
We  will  have  to  bid  adieu. 


MY  SONG. 

There  's  a  song  in  my  heart  both  sweet  and  sad, 

Though  its  words  are  never  said  ; 
Voice  out  of  breath,  and  life  out  of  tune, 

Those  who  sang  with  me  are  dead. 

Thoughts  of  the  past  on  tremulous  lips, 

In  low  notes  wooing  despair  ; 
Vibrant  with  feeling  never  expressed, 

Plaintively  filling  the  air. 

Its  tenderest  tones  soft  language  lends, 

To  voices  we  hear  in  our  dreams ; 
Together  again  with  inspiring  theme, 

Our  voices  are  mingled,  it  seems. 

89 


BEAUTY. 


Nature  to  some  hearts  so  much  supplies, 
The  inward  goodness  outward  lack  defies  ; 
True  beauty  doth  some  spirits  so  refine, 
That  what  we  yearn  for — their's  a  gift  divine. 


90 


TAUGHT  BY  THE  FLOWERS. 

HE  wild  flowers  blush  in  their  beauty, 
Out  of  sight  and  touch  of  man ; 

Fulfilling  each  day  their  duty, 
^li^L/?       Their   part   in    God's  wonderful 
plan. 

The  busiest  honey  bee  feeding, 
Sheltering  the  beauteous  bird, 

Welcoming  shower  and  sunshine — 
By  gentle  zephyrs  stirred. 
91 


92  TAUGHT  BY  THE  FLOWERS. 

Then  nothing  of  God's  need  be  idle ; 

There  's  work  enough  for  all — 
If  the  flower  has  part  in  God's  service, 

To  us  is  the  same  loving  call. 


SHADOWS. 

C  HADOWS  lie  about  our  feet, 

And  darken  all  delight ; 
In  midnight's  gloom  despair  we  meef 
And  hope  seems  lost  to  sight. 

Sunniest  hearts  have  wintry  days, 
When  sadness  leaves  its  pain  ; 

Yet  God  helps  in  so  many  ways 
That  hope  comes  back  again. 

Spring  and  winter  bring  their  gleam 

Of  sunlight  and  of  snow  ; 
Hearts'  unrest  will  seem  a  dream 

And  faith  make  hope  to  glow. 

93 


r 


THE  MIRROR. 


A  H  glass,  with  your  wondrous  power  to  trace 

All  that  you  found  so  fair, 
Why  did  you  not  hold  her  sweet  young  face 
While  she  was  looking  there? 
94 


THE  MIRROR. 


In  evening's  soft  light  or  morning's  beam 
You  caught  each  change  in  her  face, 

The  shades  and  the  gloss  of  her  sunny  hair, 
And  her  movements  of  childish  grace. 


The  drooping  lids  with  their  lashes  long, 

Her  eyes  of  violet  blue, 
Her  sweet  fresh  mouth  just  ripe  for  song, 

And  cheeks  of  delicate  hue. 


If  yon  knew  how  empty  you  look  and  how  cold, 
With  your  ribbons  decked  out  so  fair — 

A  glass,  but  a  glass,  so  hard  and  so  cold, 
You  would  not  be  standing  there. 


THE  MIRROR. 


97 


Yet  still  I  am  standing,  still  waiting  here 
For  a  face  that  is  young  and  so  fair, 

But  gaze  as  I  will,  the  only  face  near 
Is  my  own,  all  pale  with  despair. 


CAN  IT  BE  ? 

T^HEY  tell  me  of  anguish  mellowed 

To  thoughtful  sadness  sweet, 
They  tell  of  tears  when  trembling 
Oft  lightened  by  smiles  we  meet. 

They  tell  me  of  sorrow  vanished, 
Grief  healed  with  time  and  age, 

And  nothing  but  scars  remaining 
On  memory's  deep,  wide  page. 

They  tell  me  of  spirit  troubled, 
Finding  its  sorrow  has  flown, 
And  how  the  sigh  is  forgotten 

To  which  the  sad  heart  was  prone. 

98 


GOOD-NIGHT  AND  GOOD-BYE. 


/^OOD-NIGHT  and  good-bye,  you  dear  old  year, 

I  did  so  think  to  go  with  you 
That  I  told  you  all  the  secrets  I  had, 
Never  asking  that  you  would  be  true. 


You  seemed  so  young  compared  with  me, 
That  to  watch  without  you  to-night — 

Why  you  should  go  first,  and  I  wait  here — 
Seems  so  unreal— Is  it  right? 
99 


ioo         GOOD-NIGHT  AND  GOOD-BYE. 

We  kept  so  close  through  the  chilly  days, 
And  all  through  the  summer  sun  ; 

I  always  had  so  much  to  tell, 

And  you  're  gone  ere  my  story  's  begun. 


You  Ve  been  so  patient,  you  dear  old  year ; 

How  you  tried  to  make  me  glad  ! 
You  brought  me  new  friends  who  had  sorrowed,  too, 

Now  happy,  who  once  were  sad. 


I  owe  you  so  much,  and  now  you  're  gone, 
Is  there  nothing  that  I  can  do? 

Can  I  not  help  some  stricken  one 

Who  'd  be  glad  to  have  gone  with  you  ? 


GOOD-NIGHT  AND  GOOD-BYE.         10 

Then  trust  me,  old  year,  I  will  do  my  best 

In  act,  in  word,  and  thought ; 
And  as  God  measures  both  your  span  and  mine, 

I  '11  trust  Him  till  home  I  'm  brought. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


OCT   21996 

OCT031986 


i9-25m-8,'46  (9852)444 


ZL '.Voodyear   • 

9i     In  camphor, 


PS 
3357 

W8791 


L  009  6: 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGK 

AA    001  2 


